


Brainiac

by misaffection



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Baal learns that he's rubbish at crypic crosswords, but Sam isn't. Set vaguely around the time of Insiders (season 10</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brainiac

“Dinner” was a word that Baal only loosely related to the whatever-it-was on his tray. Poking it with a fork, he came to the conclusion that it _was_ dead. Whether it was edible was another matter entirely. He glanced up at the airman at his shoulder. The man just shifted his rifle in a not terribly subtle reminder that Baal should behave himself.

The only other occupants of the commissary were Teal’c and Qetesh. Or Vala. Whatever. They had been having a conversation that grew steadily louder, then Vala shoved her seat back, got up and sauntered over. The airman went on high alert.

“Twenty on table of results,” she said.

Baal stared at her. “Pardon?”

Vala sighed and repeated the statement slowly. He still had no idea what she was talking about, and told her as much. “Is this some bizarre Tau’ri ritual," he added,"or are you being purposefully vague?”

Vala tossed her head and turned around. Baal followed her line of sight and saw Samantha Carter enter. The colonel frowned at him, then headed to the counter.

“Sam!” Vala hollered. “Twenty on table of results.”

Samantha paused for a moment, then said, “Scoreboard.”

“ _What_?” Baal asked.

Vala, however, was too busy laughing. She pranced back to her table and held out a hand at Teal’c.

“Told you so,” she crowed. “Now pay up.”

Baal stared, the realisation he’d just been outclassed dawning slowly. He looked at Samantha. She was watching he trade-off with a bemused smile, but he knew it wouldn’t take her long to figure out what he had. Deciding that humble pie was no more appetising than what passed for lasagne, he abandoned his meal and beat a quiet retreat.

He was _never_ going to hear the end of this.


End file.
